"Blair. Come on. Get up."

Blair Sandburg closed his eyes tighter and burrowed deeper into the blissful warmth and comfort that was his bed. He was on vacation and there was no way in hell he was letting his roommate drag him out at this ungodly hour.

Unfortunately, Detective Jim Ellison was not the sort who gave up easily. He caught Sandburg by one arm and shook him roughly, hauling on him as if he intended to pick him up and drag him. "Sandburg! Damn it! We don't have time for this. Get your ass up and get moving!"

Imperious bastard. Sandburg pulled away but refused to open his eyes. The heat was out in the building and it was frigging cold out there and if Ellison wanted him up before noon he'd have to pick him up blankets and all. "Go without me, for God's sake! I'm on break, and I'm sleeping."

A cuff to his cheek rocked his head back. God damn it, that was enough. Sandburg came up swinging, and even before his eyes were open, he felt one fist make satisfying contact with some part of his roommate's body. That would teach him. It would piss him off, but it would teach him.

Only, Ellison didn't sound pissed off. "There ya go," he said. "That's it. Wake up. Come on. We have to get moving."

What the hell? Sandburg opened his eyes and it all came back in a rush. There was no bed. Only a snowbank on the wrong side of the pass, leaching cold through his already stiffening limbs. And he'd been down long enough for half an inch of snow to collect over his clothes. Wind-driven snow bit at their faces and swirled around them viciously, reducing visibility to only a few feet. "Shit!" Sandburg struggled upright. "I'm sorry! How long did I leave you standing there? You okay?"

"I'm okay," Ellison insisted, hauling Sandburg to his feet. "But you gotta keep moving. I'm sorry, buddy, but if you go down, I'm not going to be able to carry you, so you gotta stay with me, okay?"

"Right behind you, big guy." Sandburg wrapped both arms around himself but there seemed to be no warmth for his body to retain. His head was pounding like a son of a bitch, making it impossible to focus.

Ellison limped forward, keeping a hand on his partner's arm for safety. "We'll be okay. It can't be much farther. The exit wasn't more than half a mile."

"Gonna have to stop soon," Sandburg mumbled, struggling after him. His mouth didn't seem to be following his brain's orders very well. "You can't keep walking on that leg. It's gonna start bleeding again if you keep using it."

"It'll be okay. Come on."

A few hundred yards farther and Sandburg pulled up short, nearly losing his balance in the process. "Wait. You oughta stay here, man." It was so obvious. It made total sense. Why hadn't he thought of it before? "You stay here and rest. Stay off the leg. I'll go for help."

Ellison tugged at him, pulling him forward. "Thanks for the thought, buddy, but I think we'd better stick together, huh?"

Sandburg allowed himself to be moved, his feet blindly following the tug on his arm, but he wasn't about to give up. "Seriously. You're losing blood. You're not thinking straight. You gotta stop. Just wait here for me. I'll come right back. I swear."

"I'm too cold to bleed. Just keep moving."

Ignoring the protest, Sandburg stopped and shrugged out of his jacket. It wasn't much, but it would keep Ellison a little warmer while he waited. Sandburg could make do without it. He wasn't really that cold anymore, anyhow.

"Jesus!" Ellison snapped, "Put that back on." He snatched the jacket from Sandburg's hands and then caught him by one arm, doing his best to wrestle him back into the jacket.

That did it. Sandburg was getting seriously fed up now. He planted his feet and glared at Ellison. "You know what? Screw you, man. I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to save your life here and all you're doing is giving me crap for it!" He knew he was being a little unreasonable. He knew Ellison was injured and probably not thinking clearly, but Sandburg was tired, and he had the headache from hell and he'd taken all the crap he was going to take from Jim Ellison. He reached out and shoved him with both hands. "You think you can order me around like one of your military lackeys? Well, I'm not taking any more damn orders from you! You hear me? So just... Screw you! You wanna walk until your damn leg falls off? Go ahead. See if I give a damn!"

Ellison caught him by both shoulders and shook him roughly. "Sandburg! Stop it!"

Sandburg's anger evaporated in an explosion of pain that nearly took him off his feet. "Ow! Don't, man! My head's gonna explode." He was also going to be sick, but he was trying really hard not to think about that.

"okay. Relax. Relax."

Ellison pulled him close and for a moment Sandburg allowed it, resting his head against Ellison's solid bulk until he could breathe again. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he'd been so angry about a minute ago. He could feel Ellison shivering violently and that worried him. His own shivering had abated some time ago. Was blood loss causing Ellison to chill more rapidly?

"Listen to me," Ellison said, sounding both desperate and exhausted. "We need to stay together and we need to keep moving. okay?"

Sandburg still thought it made more sense for him to go for help, but the way Ellison was shivering, maybe it would be better to keep him moving, to generate some heat. "Yeah. OK. Can you see anything?"

Ellison began moving forward again. He was limping badly, his injured leg no doubt stiffening in the cold. "Not much, with this snow blowing like it is. We'll just have to follow the edge of the road."

"All right. Here, lean on me. It'll take a little weight off that leg." Sandburg paused to let Ellison get an arm over his shoulder, then leaned into the wind and forced his feet to keep moving forward into the void. One way or another, he was going to get his partner out of this.

It was hard to tell whether they were making progress. The white vortex around them seemed not to change. It was a hypnotic sight. Sandburg felt himself falling into it, half-dreaming on his feet, not feeling it when he landed on both knees, until he heard the pained cry from his right as Ellison was dragged down with him. He turned his head toward the sound, afraid to move until he figured out which direction was up.

"Jim? You okay?" He reached out a gloved hand and clutched at the fabric it encountered.

"Will be," Ellison grunted. "You're gonna have to help me up."

"Which way?"

"What?"

"Up," Sandburg explained patiently. Yeah Ellison was definitely out of it. Not coherent enough to understand what Sandburg was saying. He needed shelter, and fast. Sandburg planted his hands beside his knees. okay. That felt solid. It must be down. His head was killing him, and down seemed to keep moving around on him. He lurched forward, caught himself, and finally made it to his feet. The snow whipped around him, destroying what little orientation he'd gained by finding the ground. He reached out randomly. "Jim? I got ya, man. Just give me your hand."

Hearing Ellison shifting behind him, he turned cautiously, but not cautiously enough. The world spun around him. His knees hit the ground again and for a moment he panicked. "Jim?"

"Here," Ellison said, catching one of Sandburg's flailing hands.

Sandburg gasped in relief. As long as he had an anchor, he wasn't going to be lost in the void. "Hang on." He made it to his feet again, and braced himself, then pulled Ellison up beside him and stood panting in the frigid air. "I should check your leg."

Ellison, also panting, shook his head. "'S okay. Let's just keep moving. Wait." He peered into the storm. "What's that?"

"What?"

"There's something moving over there. Like a man."

Sandburg didn't see anything but snow. "You sure?"

"That it's there? Yeah. That it's a man? No." He cupped his gloved hands around his mouth. "Hello? We need help here!"

"He knows this."

The voice came from right at Sandburg's ear. He jerked back, startled, but whoever had spoken was no more than a blur in the driving snow.

"Thank God," Ellison said.

"Indeed."

Sandburg staggered, still struggling to focus. "Jim? Who is it? I can't see him."

Ellison didn't answer, but only tugged him forward. Sandburg struggled to keep up. And then everything went strangely silent.

Ellison shifted awkwardly, gritting his teeth when the movement tugged at the gash above his right knee. Sandburg had done a decent job of bandaging it with strips of his flannel shirt. Away from the numbing cold, it was beginning to hurt like hell. It was going to need treatment. Maybe even surgery. But Sandburg's work had kept the blood loss to a minimum and for that, Ellison was grateful. The barn they'd stumbled into was solid and dry. It was also half full of hay. It hadn't taken much effort to open a couple of bales to serve as insulation in a space left by missing bales. An old canvas tarp over the bales served as a crude tent, creating a space small enough to be warmed by their body heat. All in all it was enough to keep them reasonably comfortable until the morning.

Ellison's slight, satisfied smile faded as he looked at the man sleeping beside him. Between the head injury and the hypothermia, Sandburg had been vacillating between barely coherent and completely incoherent since the wreck. Ellison was sure nothing but sheer stubbornness had kept him moving until they reached shelter. Then, finally satisfied that Ellison was safe, he'd released his tenuous hold on consciousness. He'd barely moved since. Ellison was reluctant to wake him but he needed to assess his level of consciousness.

As if he could hear Ellison's thoughts, Sandburg stirred beside him and propped himself up on his elbows. "Jim? What happened? Where'd he go?"

Ellison frowned. "Who?"

"The guy. You know."

"Oh. There was no guy. My eyes were playing tricks on me. It was good timing though. I found this place while I was looking for him."

Sandburg's face screwed up in confusion. He shoved his tangled curls out of his eyes. "You were talking to him."

"I called out, but there was no one there. How's your head?"

"He answered you. I heard him."

"You were pretty out of it," Ellison said.

"But..." Sandburg shook his head, and then winced. Clearly the movement had been a mistake he didn't want to repeat. "Never mind. What about your leg?"

"I don't exactly feel like hiking Rainier, but thanks to your bandaging job, it's clean and not bleeding. It'll be okay"

Sandburg settled back but he continued to watch Ellison with a puzzled frown.

Ellison raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I heard him. You were talking to him. You told him we needed help and he..." His brow furrowed in concentration. "He said he knew that. And then you said, 'Thank God,' and he said..." His eyes widened slightly and he stopped speaking.

Ellison reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "There was no one there, Chief. I thought I saw someone, and I called out for help, but there was no one there. And then I spotted the barn. That's all. You took a pretty good knock on the head. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got a concussion. Been there, done that. Kinda hoped not to do it again, but there ya go."

Ellison chuckled. After all they'd been through tonight, the bounce still hadn't left the Tigger.

They lay in silence for a time. Ellison let himself drift, grounded by the steady rhythm of his partner's heartbeat beside him. The near-total darkness created by the tarp was a blessing. Ellison was too tired and too busy ignoring the pain in his leg to have his senses under control. Not having to worry about his vision was undoubtedly saving him a headache to match Sandburg's.

Sandburg's tentative voice roused him from a half doze. "Jim?"

"Hm?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"Probably Christmas, by now. I guess this isn't exactly how you wanted to spend it."

Sandburg rolled over onto one side, propping himself up on one elbow to face Ellison, though Ellison doubted he could see anything in the darkness. "We're in a barn."

"You always were the brains of the team."

"We're in a barn because we couldn't get a hotel room."

Ellison hitched himself up against a bale of hay. "I know. I was there. Remember? Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Jim, it's Christmas Eve, and we're sleeping in a stable because there was no room in the inn."

"Hey, if you're trying to tell me you're pregnant, we are so not going there."

Sandburg choked. "Ow. Don't make me laugh. My head's killing me here."

"Don't blame me. I'm not the one with delusions of virginity."

He waited for a snide retort but it didn't come. Ellison shifted to look at him. Sandburg had settled back in the hay. His gaze was distant and unfocused. Ellison felt a quick flutter of fear. Head injuries could be deceptive and they could go south with terrifying suddenness. Ignoring the burning pain in his injured leg, he sat up and put a hand out.

"Chief? You OK?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

The adrenaline rush faded, leaving Ellison exhausted all over again. He sat back against the hay bale. "Well, warn me when you're gonna do that. You about gave me a heart attack."

Sandburg didn't rise to the bait. "Sorry."

"So... where did Elvis go when he left the building?"

Sandburg rolled over onto one side again, facing Ellison in the darkness. With his breath and heartbeat so close, Ellison felt as if the whole space were alive around them. He found it oddly reassuring. Sandburg would probably say it had something to do with returning to the womb. Which was why Ellison was never going to mention it to him.

"There was someone there," Sandburg said. "I heard him. And I almost saw him. Like a shape in the snow. I couldn't get a good look at him. He had a light. Or... I don't know."

"Sandburg..." Ellison couldn't quite keep the concern from his voice."

"I know. You think I was hallucinating, but Jim, you saw him. I know you did."

Ellison sighed. "I thought I saw something, but it was just a trick of the light. Why is this such a big deal to you, Chief?"

"I just think it's weird, that's all. I think something happened tonight."

Ellison snorted. "Yeah, we got run off the road and spent half the night wading through a blizzard."

"Something bigger than that." Sandburg shivered.

Ellison frowned. He knew Sandburg had gone well past the shivering stage earlier so he was inclined to see the shivering as a positive note, but he'd be happier if they could both be a little warmer.

"Never mind," Sandburg said. "Forget it. I'm wiped, man. I just want to sleep."

Feeling a twinge of guilt at the resignation in his tone, Ellison reached over and patted his shoulder. "Yeah, get some sleep if you can. Dawn can't be too far away, and we'll be able to get a look at the situation then."

Sandburg burrowed down into the hay for warmth and drifted off almost immediately. Too quickly for Ellison's comfort. Sure the kid was exhausted. They both were. But they were also cold and uncomfortable and on edge. Military life had taught Ellison to sleep where and when he could, but Sandburg should be grousing about the cold, and popping up every five minutes with a new theory or a random anthropological observance. Then there was his obsession with the figure he'd imagined in the snow outside. Maybe it was just Sandburg being Sandburg, but it was equally possible, maybe even probable, that it was another manifestation of the head injury. The thought kept Ellison from relaxing enough to sleep. He lay awake, monitoring his partner's breathing and heartbeat, half afraid they'd stop if he fell asleep.

The sound of a pickup truck arrived before the first hint of dawn. Ellison shoved the tarp back and scrambled to his feet, only to fall back again when his injured leg howled in protest.

Sandburg stirred beside him. "What happened? You okay?"

"Yeah," Ellison grated. "Just tweaked the leg. There's a truck coming."

"A truck? Are you serious?" Sandburg leapt up and immediately staggered against a bale of hay. He hung on to it for a moment to catch his balance. "Stay here. Don't strain your leg. I'll go check it out."

Ellison intended to protest, but the leg had other ideas. He nodded. "Be careful, Chief. We're trespassing, and whoever it is might not appreciate it."

"Got it covered, man. Back in a jiff."

He ran for the barn door and slipped outside. Ellison heard the truck pulling up outside, and Sandburg calling out to the driver.

"Hey. Sorry about trespassing. My name's Blair Sandburg. My friend and I got caught in the storm last night. My friend's hurt. He's in the barn. Any chance you could give us a lift to a phone?"

"You say your friend's hurt?" Definitely a male voice. Past middle age.

"Yeah..." Blair said, trailing off as if he'd intended to say more.

"Whoa. Easy, son. Looks like your friend's not the only one hurt."

Ellison lurched to his feet, and limped toward the door. Before he could reach it he heard Blair's voice again.

"Naw, man. I'm okay. I just need to get my friend to a doctor."

At least he was conscious. Ellison shoved the barn door open. It was still dark, though the horizon was beginning to show a hint of rose. Ellison recoiled briefly from glare of the truck's headlights. "Blair? You okay?"

"I'm good," Blair said, from where he was leaning against the hood of a battered '79 pickup. "I'm just having a word with Mr...?"

"Ken Lester." A tall, wiry man in a John Deere cap came forward to offer Ellison a hand to the truck. "And I beg to differ. I don't think the young fella's as close to okay as he thinks he is. What in God's name were you two doing out in that mess last night?"

Ellison settled gratefully into the seat. "Jim Ellison. Deer cut in front of us. We swerved to miss her. Ended up in a creek. Thought we could make it the half mile back to the last exit we'd seen. And you're right about Blair. He's got a pretty good concussion, and he was severely hypothermic last night. That's why we holed up in your barn. I opened a couple of bales of hay so he wouldn't be lying on the ground. If you'll let me know what they're worth, I'd be happy to pay for them."

Lester shook his head. "I'll tell you what they're not worth. They're not worth anyone's life. It's a damned lucky thing cattle need to eat on Christmas day, same as every other day of the year, or I wouldn't have been out here at all. See if you can both squeeze in on the seat there and I'll take you back to the house. You can call anyone you need to from there, and then we'll use my wife's car to get you to the ER. There's more room and it's warmer than this old hulk."

"Thanks. That'd be awesome," Sandburg said, climbing in beside Ellison.

It was an awkward fit, with Ellison's long legs stretched sideways to avoid the gearshift, but it was blessedly warm. Even Sandburg stopped shivering. They drove out the rutted path and stopped at a locked gate. Lester got out to unlock it, reversing the procedure when they'd gone through it.

"You know, it's a strange thing," he commented, when they were moving again. "I've got good solid barbed wire fence all the way along the road, right up to the gate on both sides. It's a wonder you weren't both torn up trying to get through it in the dark, unless you climbed in over the gate. Which direction you say you were coming from?"

"West," Ellison said. "We were headed west and then after we went into the creek, we turned back to try to make it back to the exit. I didn't see any fence, though."

Lester gave him a sharp glance. "The I-90 exit?"

"That's right."

"Damn," Lester said. "You must have come right past it in the storm and got onto Racer Creek road. If you'd gone any farther there wouldn't have been anything short of my place and that's three miles from here. You'd never have made it on that leg. I don't know how you spotted my barn from the road, but it's a good thing you did. I just don't see how you got to it without running head on into that barbed wire." He shook his head. "That's a pure mystery."

Sandburg had been dozing against the window but he raised his head now to look up at Ellison.

"It was him."

"Who's that?" Lester asked.

"Sandburg thought he saw someone last night."

"So did you," Sandburg insisted. He shifted to look at Lester. "Jim thought he saw someone. He called out that we needed help. And..."

"And I was mistaken. There was no one there. But then I saw the barn."

"I don't know," Lester said. "I'm not a churchgoing man, and I don't much believe in things I can't see. But there's one thing I've believed, since I was a kid in diapers." He turned his attention to the road, looking a little embarrassed before he continued, "My mother always told me that on a Christmas Eve, long ago, God sent hope into the world, and just so we won't forget, he gives us one night a year when magic is real and anything can happen." He glanced at his passengers. "I guess that sounds a little silly coming from a grown man, but I've seen things on Christmas Eves all my life that keep me believing it. And now here you are."

Ellison looked down at the exhausted, unkempt, battered young man beside him -- the young man still looking up at him with wide, wondering eyes, his innate sense of joy untouched by the ordeal. "Yeah," Ellison said. "And here we are."

"Hey, look!" Sandburg said, "The sun's coming up! Merry Christmas, guys!"

"Merry Christmas," Lester said.

Ellison only smiled and shook his head, and reached over to ruffle Sandburg's already wildly tangled hair. Merry Christmas indeed.

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